


Sundries

by Arya_Greenleaf



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017)
Genre: Assassination, Bottom Kylo Ren, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Manipulation, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-17 05:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: Supreme Leader Kylo Ren knows how to get what he needs. He knows what he wants.General Hux knows what buttons to push. He knows how to be the neck that turns the head.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There was a call for bottom Kylo. The call included Kylo basically just keeping Hux around to use for his own pleasure, both of them manipulating each other, and maybe a little surprise at the end. Who's that MCD tag for? Place your guesses in the box below.
> 
> I needed a break from a very bloody, gory piece so I started this.
> 
> The sex is rough and a bit abrupt but it is premeditated by equally enthusiastic parties. Enjoy the show.

Watching the General work was fascinating.

He’d always been fanatic. A hazard of having been raised within the Order, Kylo supposed. When the infection was blood-deep, it only grew worse over time. The same was true for Hux’s urgency in pushing the _Order_ ’s agenda forward--his, really. Even still in a position of dependency and ineffective power, Hux believed himself to _be_ the _Order_.

It was funny, frankly. A near constant source of diversion to imagine the ways in which Hux was an unrepentant hypocrite--both condemning Palpatine and the Empire for their shortcomings and failures while engaging in the exact same spirit that led to their fall.

Kylo wouldn’t make those same mistakes.

He’d once watched as power and influence and effectiveness slipped through Leia Organa’s fingers like the sand on Tattooine where her history, whether she deigned to admit it or not, had begun. He’d seen the First Order--just _the centrists_ then--creep forward and seize senatorial seats. He’d seen Mon Mothma flounder. He’d seen those who dared to oppose the new order disappear from the rotunda, and then the Hosnian system, and then simply disappear.

Heads appeared figuratively on pikes like an asteroid belt across the Tingel Arm.

He’d watched Luke Skywalker lose control of his students and then of himself. He’d watched fear leech in at the edges of everything. He’d watched the Dark take over. He’d ushered the others away to safer shores when everything had gone to shit.

He’d learned where Vader failed. He’d poked at the breaks and cracks and resolved not to let the same fissures form in himself ad to fill them in if they already had.

If most importantly, he’d watched Snoke rise.

He’d watched Snoke _fall_.

And he knew exactly whom the _rabid cur_ had been.

It wasn’t Hux, it never was. It was Kylo-- _young Solo_ who was too much like his father, too much like his mother, had too much Light in him, too much conflict. It was Kylo who wanted to take his place in the Force and the galaxy and who would have done so by whatever means. Kylo who bared his teeth and snarled and snapped and rent the flesh of his foes if they came too close or his leash had been left too long.

He wasn’t a hound any more.

But he would train one.

It was convenient that the _Supremacy_ had been destroyed. It meant that he could keep Hux close, that he could remain near the creature comforts of his own established quarters.

Kylo watched Hux on the bridge, commanding the squadron of TIEs in their assault of the latest pocket of rebellion. He exacted death from a distance with a flush high on his cheeks and his fingers clenched into tight fists.

Hux was a _good boy_.

A bastard and dangerous, but a good boy.

He knew when and how to obey, what would get him to the next step of the ladder. A fanatic to be sure, but not a frantic or messy one. He was precise. Exacting. Useful.

Fascinating.

“General,” Kylo called from across the bridge, his tone low and steady. Eyes swept toward him from every console, still wary and unsure of the level of command he’d attained. Hux pivoted, _just so_ , and raised his chin in response. “Will this soon be dealt with?”

“Absolutely, sir. Their craft are practically antique--I believe the heavy fighter we just dispatched was built at the beginning of the Clone Wars--and their command is obviously inexperienced. Our men will pick off the last few still hanging on,” a steady stream of plasma bolts rained across the field of the viewport behind Hux. “And we’ll send a squadron to the ground to ensure there aren’t any loose ends we should be aware of. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours until we have a clear picture of the issue.”

Kylo nodded, Hux’s self-satisfaction simmered around him and crept through the bridge. “Excellent.” Hux preened. Kylo clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to laugh.”Our meeting stands, then.”

“Of course, Supreme Leader.”

Hux turned back to the viewport, murmuring commands that appeared on consoles as Mitaka’s fingers flew across the touchpad in front of him at the dictation. Small craft exploded just beyond the range of the _Finalizer’s_ shields. Kylo left the bridge, satisfied.

 

***

 

The Ren were restless.

They collected in the war room, squabbling like the padawan learners they were so long ago. Skywalker wasn’t there to settle the argument or tell them to look into the Force to resolve it. Nor was Snoke there to crack his fist against the arm of his throne and shout across the chamber.

Kylo raised a hand, and heavy weight rolled through the air. The Ren grew silent.

“We are no longer Snoke’s personal attack dogs--his enforcers. You-- _we_ \--are commanders of the finest army the galaxy has to offer.”

“They will not be commanded.”

“You must give them a reason to trust you. They’ve been raised by the Order, they have no reason to harbor any loyalties to outsiders.”

“FN-2187 certainly didn’t abide by that.”

“FN-2187 was an anomaly.” Kylo grit his teeth and took a steadying breath.

“They won’t be commanded by you, either, _Supreme Leader_.”

Kylo swept his hand over the table in a gentle arc. The Knight who’d spoken crashed from their seat to the floor, chin guard clipping the edge of the holotable heavily as they went down.

“They follow my command well enough.”

“You don’t know _how_ to use this army.”

Kylo rose from his seat, fingertips pressed to the table painfully to stay his own hands. “I know how _not_ to use this army and none of you will presume to pretend you have any skill otherwise. Snoke left a complete mess behind. He put a tremendous amount of effort in making sure they were afraid of the Force, of _his_ Knights. It’s clear now that it was to ensure we could never organize them against him.” He paused, gathering himself. “The Order is in _debt_ and there is dissention in the ranks from the lowest rung. I am doing everything in my power to remedy that.”

The Ren shared a look, the air buzzing.

“Get out of my sight. Prepare to land dirtside--our little skirmish from alpha shift isn’t going away.”

Hux had a sneer ready as he brushed past them in the doorway. Phasma tailed him closely and took her usual place without a word. “Trouble with your brethren?”

Kylo ignored the gibe. It wasn’t worth the fight. “They’ll be accompanying the infantry unit.”

Phasma straightened, her mangled chrome visage cocked like an interested lothcat. Kylo turned his attention to her with purpose as she spoke. “Sir, do you think that entirely necessary? My men are more than capable of handling a small resistance cell. It should hardly be more difficult than Jakku.”

Kylo wondered briefly if she would comply if he demanded she remove her helmet. “If the reports from aerial tracking are correct, the reason they knew we would be near this sector at all is because the remaining Praetorians have fled there. They’re likely feeding the Resistance information.”

“And why would they do that?” Hux narrowed his expression knowingly.

Kylo ignored him and continued. “My Knights will accompany the infantry to ensure that we still _have_ an infantry by the start of next cycle. Snoke’s guards weren’t Force-sensitive, but they were highly trained. They’ll plow through a squadron of troopers like child’s playthings. Especially if they still have their armor. Blasters will be useless.”

Phasma didn’t need to be told twice. She dove head-first into planning out stratagem that utilized the Ren’s abilities.

Kylo watched Hux, noted his interest and his silences.

Phasma deferred to her General in most things. _Most_.

It was something he hadn’t quite noticed before. She wasn’t so much the conditioned trooper that Hux would have others believe. There was assertion there, defiance.

Orders set, Phasma rose and excused herself to prepare for landing. Hux watched her leave before he uncrossed his legs and unfolded himself from his seat. The languid motion of it reminded Kylo of the villain in a B-rate holofilm. Hux smoothed the sleeves of his jacket and turned, an excuse dying on his lips in an instant.

“Sit.”

He remained upright. “There’s further business you wish to discuss?”

“We need to adjust our communications frequencies. If the Praetorians have truly abandoned their loyalties to the Order then they’ve surely figured out what information might be profitable.”

“Mm. The Resistance already has a direct line of communication, what, with that scavenger girl still in your head. Wouldn’t want to make it easier for them.” Hux folded his arms and looked down his nose. “Tell me, Supreme Leader, are we still pretending that it was her who killed Snoke? Who fought off the rest of them single-handedly? Dropped you like a sack of bantha shit first, I assume, or else how would she have gotten past a single guard?”

Kylo closed his eyes and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, suppressing the urge to laugh. He managed to look contrite.

Yes, he’d lied in the moment. He’d done what he needed to do in order to move an army and protect himself. He had no doubts that had he regained consciousness just a second later, he would not have regained it at all. But it was obvious what had really happened. The rest of the guard would not have fled if it had been true. He’d been bested by the girl once, yes, but he’d grown as much as she had in the time between Starkiller’s destruction and those moments in Snoke’s presence.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, gathering his composure. It was a practiced trick. It had worked on Han Solo for two decades, he had no doubt it would placate Hux as well.

“It’s true,” he whispered, plosives catching behind his teeth. He trained his gaze on the floor. “I let myself believe I could bring her to our way of thinking. That I could keep her at my side. Use her as a tool against Organa and Skywalker. She _is_ powerful. And she _is_ in my head. What Snoke did to us, however he connected us, I can’t seem to rid myself of it.”

Hux radiated smug pride. Satisfaction.

Mutiny.

Kylo leaned forward by fractions and gazed up through his eyelashes. He continued seriously, less pathetic. “But that’s why I need _you_.” He closed his eyes for a moment, pressed his lips together in a way he’d once been told was attractive. “Killing Snoke was easy in the end. His arrogance blinded him in the most essential ways. He was too skilled at only seeing what he wanted to. When I pulled my grandfather’s saber through his body it was like…” His stomach filled with Spinner birds, circling danger like they always did when thought of that moment. “Release.”

Hux colored lightly, his cheeks and throat going mottled in an appealing way.

“Killing Snoke connected me to more _clarity_ and power than I could have ever dreamed possible when I met Han Solo on _Starkiller_. It was necessary. He was draining the Order of time and resources. He was steering us all into oblivion, letting snivelling fools control the Senate instead of placing it in more capable hands.”

Kylo stood, commandeering just a sliver of the space Hux was occupying beside his abandoned seat. Hux radiated tension and heat.

“When I killed him, it wasn’t a thoughtless thing. It was an inevitable act. It was the thing that I’d known would be necessary for some time and the opportunity finally presented itself. In some ways, the girl did serve her part. She distracted him so that I could do what needed to be done.”

Hux tipped his head back and regarded Kylo down the length of his nose. His pulse throbbed in his temple.

“And what needs to be done now,” Kylo dropped his tone to a secretive rumble. There were times that the Force was superfluous. “Requires us to work together. I know how to be a figure head. I know what words need to be said, what image needs to be presented.”

“Like you did on Crait?”

Kylo’s mouth lifted, wounded. “I wasn’t thinking clearly then. I was hyperfocused. Angry. But I’m thinking clearly now. Although my mother would never admit to it, I was raised to lead. She would shout from the rooftops that her child would not feel the weight of responsibility that she had her whole life. But I’ve always known what I was meant for.”

Hux echoed his sentiment, shouting without moving his lips.

“I know how the Order should not be used, but I’m not too proud to admit that I need help. We’re sides of a coin, you and I, and in order for this to work--for any of it to work--”

“You need me.”

“I’d say the same.”

“This is _my fleet_.”

“And you are _my General_.”

Hux’s nostrils flared and his face flushed truly red. His hands snapped forward from his sides, grabbing at Kylo with sudden violence. His fingers gripped tight at Kylo’s hair, pulling painfully at his scalp.

Hux wasn’t a gentle man by any stretch. He did nothing without that _fanatic_ edge.

He grunted, forehead clunking for a moment before mouths caught. Hux’s teeth found Kylo’s lips and his breath abandoned him.

Hux grappled him down onto the smooth responsive tabletop. The warmth of his cheek made the touch console flicker to life and the objects in their sector danced above them. Kylo laughed, wheezing as the fingers in his hair tugged harder.

“Command the fleet, the troopers, destroy whole _fucking_ systems--” Kylo’s thought died on his lips, Hux’s hand shoving at his tunic and ripping at the button on his suspenders. Hips yanked back, Kylo steadied himself with hands slapped onto the tabletop. Their view of the system zoomed in to the central planet. Information scrolled at a dizzying speed. Hux pulled at Kylo’s leggings, snarling in frustration but not releasing his hold on Kylo’s hair to do the job right. The suspenders flew up, the Y-seam catching at the back of Kylo’s neck and digging in.

Kylo shuddered with Hux’s hands on his bare skin, smooth leather still an impossible barrier. Hux snorted in derision, thumb pressing against his hole and finding him more than ready.

Kylo laughed outright, “We did have a meeting scheduled.”

“ _Filthy_ , impertinent thing you are. Nothing has changed.”

The release of his hair was a small mercy. Kylo closed his eyes and reached beneath himself, unfastening the front buttons of his suspenders to release the tension on his neck and shove his leggings down further. Behind him, Hux fumbled with his jacket and the closure of his jodhpurs, too wrapped up in the heat of his arrogance for efficiency.

He hardly had to touch himself, a few quick pulls had him hard and shoving himself up against Kylo’s backside.

Kylo choked, startled, and hit an icon on the display with his nose. An image of the Moff who presided over their system pulsed above them, sallow skin and thinned hair leaving something to be desired.

Pressed flush, Hux gripped at his hips, wicked nails digging in even though the supple leather of his gloves. The images above them flickered, the selection scrolling through the local chain of command each time the jerk of Hux’s body against Kylo made his nose and cheek come close to the appropriate sensor.

“No,” Hux spat eventually. Kylo leered over his shoulder, lip curled into a snarl as Hux grabbed at his forearms and fit his wrists into a neat cross at the small of his back.

“Then touch my cock you _bastard_ ,” he hissed.

Hux sneered and leaned in, pinning Kylo’s hands under his belly. “When I’m through.” He shifted, freeing one of his own hands, and gripped Kylo’s chin. “If we’ve resolved to cooperate,” his thumbs dug into the corners of Kylo’s lips and forced them open, “then I presume we’ve both got to forfeit ground.” His fingers slipped, Kylo’s skin slick with saliva, and grained control, hooked into Kylo’s mouth and pushing down against his tongue.

Hux turned his face, pressing his forehead to Kylo’s shoulder. “Supreme Leader,” he rasped.

Hux was a fanatic. Even still in a position of dependency and ineffective power, Hux believed himself to _be_ the _Order_. He could be useful. He could be put on a leash and given direction.

Kylo would keep his rabid cur close.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god please comment.
> 
> [tumblr here](http://avaahren.tumblr.com/post/174493636869/sundries-aryagreenleaf)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hux becomes suspicious.  
> Or paranoid.  
> Or both.  
> And neither stops him from taking what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I originally posted this as a 3-chapter fic but I got really into the plot and the inner-monologue bits and then I went down the rabbit-hole on wookiepedia and, well, it's much meatier than I planned. I didn't want to just drop a 10k chapter with tons of short time jumps. 
> 
> There's still going to be plenty of porn, I promise. I know that's what people are here for.

A standard year passed with little incident. It was as disturbing as it was reassuring. The First Order had gained foothold after foothold, sweeping through the Core Worlds and working steadily inward from the Outer Rim. There were fewer and fewer places for Organa’s pathetic excuse for an army to hide--fewer and fewer systems willing to harbor them or lend them any kind of aid lest they become the next target of the Order’s discipline. The consolidated resources of the Mid Rim systems were simply no longer enough to hold the Order at bay.

Hux refused to become comfortable. It led only to complacency and that was not something he could afford.

Not while Kylo Ren still sat the throne.

The new Senate, a senate truly in name only since all final legislation filtered directly across the desks of the top command of the Order, was running smoothly. The worlds participated in the illusion of self-governance with little complaint. They rallied behind their representatives and those rallied behind their Supreme Leader. The pageantry was exhausting if profitable. That was one of the major mistakes the Empire made. They seized all semblance of power from the worlds, dismantled their failing democracy entirely and by force rather than allow them to perform, giving them a bit without losing the whole klick. Hux understood the value of the thing even if it made him sick to waste resources on it.

Hux stood in front of the sink, the lights in the refresher dialed down to fifty percent in the hopes of having a moment unnoticed to himself. It was rare that his bedmate stayed beyond the duration of their trysts. He seemed to have some delusion that the crew was unaware of what passed between them, that it was some delicious secret. On the occasion that he did remain beyond his welcome, he truly pushed the limits of their engagement. He lounged in Hux’s bed, watched him dress, murmured filthy things across the room--let them flit across the surface of Hux’s mind.

Hux supposed he should be grateful that Ren maintained an air of decorum outside of strictly private moments, even if those had become increasingly risky in nature.

The thrill of it, of being happened upon by some top brass--because they were _constantly_ around now, invading Hux’s space at the whims of the Supreme Leader who’d declared the _Finalizer_ his residence--he would never admit to the way that made his heart hammer against his sternum and his blood buzz and his cock hard.

Kylo Ren was a liability.

He needed to be dealt with.

Hux focused every bit of his attention on the blade at his throat, scraping away the growth of his mandatory rest cycle with utmost precision. He made it as far as cleaning the edge of his left sideburn before he was interrupted.

Ren slinked into the refresher, shirtless and soft. Hux paused and nodded in acknowledgement. “Supreme Leader,” he murmured and continued his work at the mirror. Ren scoffed, low and affectionate. He leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossed, and scrutinized Hux for a long minute.

“You look more like an Imperial every day.”

“Your point being?”

“Its out of fashion.” He raised a brow and gestured at the side of his face. “Obsolete.” Something dancing across the threshold of _cruel_ flitted over his features before his lips settled into a smile.

“I think you should be far more concerned about your own styling.” Ren snorted. “It’s frivolous.”

Over the last year Ren’s hair had grown long. It fell in a heavy wave below his shoulders, impossibly glossy and _stupidly_ thick. Hux rarely saw it loose--always braided in a very particular pattern, occasionally adorned with smaller stitches when the _Supreme Leader_ was required to make a more public appearance. He sometimes wondered if Ren braided it himself--wasted time better spent doing the job he’d killed for--or if the Knights he kept so close had become like handmaids.

Hux wiped his blade clean and tipped his head to begin on the right side. He watched Ren in the reflection of the glass--Ren watching the tiny strokes Hux made with a nearly predatory interest.

Hux froze, his hands poised in the middle of wiping the blade once more before continuing, when Ren approached. His hands landed on Hux’s waist, circling and pressing in against the crest of the bone just under the surface, just on the side of uncomfortable.

Ren was clumsy and rough in all things.

His head dipped, lips brushing against the bare skin of Hux’s shoulder, nose nudging at the hem of his A-shirt. He moved closer, his body a heavy weight against Hux’s back. His lips moved in, dry and smooth, sweeping along the curve of Hux’s neck.

Hux could barely contain the full-body _cringe_ that swept through him. His fingers tightened around the handle of his blade. He placed his hands with purpose against the edge of the sink, steadying himself, the blade making a soft _shink!_ against the steel surface.

Ren’s mouth was wet and soft.

Hux breathed in, filling his chest and belly. He struggled to reckon the desire to gut Ren like the limp fish of a ruler he was, to take his chance then and there and seize control, with the _want_ that curled in _his_ gut and tickled up his spine. This affectionate _bullshit_ was a test of his patience.

“The delegation from Chandrila is scheduled to arrive during beta shift.” Ren murmured against him.

“Yes, I remember.”

Hux would wait. Let the pieces in play make their way to the end of the board. A sudden change of command would do the Order no good. He couldn’t yet be assured that those beneath him would fall in line, that they’d follow the example of the _Finalizer_ ’s staff.

Ren laid another slow kiss against his neck, lips sticking just slightly as he pulled away to speak again. “Good. I’ve arranged to have them received in the war room. I’d like to make an impression. Their system doesn’t have a particularly desirable political history.”

Hux hummed in response, kept his gaze forward. Ren sucked a last kiss into his flesh. He’d have an ugly mottled thing there. Ren peeked up at him, smiled against him, eyes sparking with mischief. Hux’s expression curled inward, heated. “I’ll be there.”

“Of course you will.” Ren stood up straight and released Hux, fingers trailing across the small of his back as he left the refresher. Hux waited until he heard the rustle of clothing before resuming his grooming.

When the door of his quarters hissed shut on the pneumatic track, the beep of the lock engaging loud in the otherwise silent space, he breathed out in a rush.

He couldn’t ignore it--the arousal or the confusion. Did it it make him hard to imagine Ren’s blood on his hands? Taking his proper place as the true head of the Order and the galaxy at large?

Or was it simply _Ren_? Had he truly grown so lax in his discipline?

Quickly spent, he gripped the edge of the sink, arms trembling.

Chest and belly churning with agitation, Hux flipped the hot water on, obliterating evidence of his weakness, and seized the hand towel. He scrubbed at his neck, raising pinpoints of red.

The high collar of his jacket hid the mess well.

 

***

 

The delegation from Chandrila arrived promptly.

Hux stood just a step back as Ren greeted them, observant.

He’d cleaned himself up. His braids seemed freshened, shiny and clean and smoothly twisted. Hux knew there were two--like ropes that held a seacraft--one above the other. They were twisted around each other, made to look more complicated, like someone with four hands would have attended to them. The thing ended in a soft curl between his shoulders, a dainty band of gold fastening the pattern.

Hux wanted to hook his fingers into the stitches of it, pull until they came loose.

Instead, he extended his hand when introduced, shaking with the lead delegate. The Chandrilans were more reserved than he would have guessed. He’d thought they’d come aboard with barrels blazing, ready for argument. Instead, they shook his hand and politely inclined their heads and allowed themselves to be led to the war room.

Hux fell in line, just one pace behind Ren and to his right. Mitaka brought up the rear, making sure that none of the group wandered away. They’d hardly settled into their seats at the appointed meeting place when the Chandrilans launched into business.

“We want to ensure, before we begin any kind of talks, that you all understand that we have only agreed to this meeting--and to the things you hope to accomplish with us--under specific, non-negotiable terms.”

“Of course,” Ren began, typing an access code into the touchscreen spread out before them. As he continued, files appeared at the individual console spaces of those seated around the table. Abstracts of the information therein and the associated images flickered to life on the holoprojection above the surface. “We’ve given each of the former members of Snoke’s staff a trial featuring the due process prescribed in the treaty that you brought to us last year. Each of them was made publically accessible and broadcast in real-time to ensure complete transparency. The other systems that you’re representing by proxy have all accepted the outcomes of those trials.”

The entire endeavor reeked of Republican codswallop. There had been seventeen trials they’d had to muddle through. Complete with judge and jury elected by the Senate after an exhaustive vetting process and drawn out examinations of testimonies and evidence. It should have been simple. They’d been part of Snoke’s private staff, several of them members of the Praetorian Guard. They _should_ have been put to death on the spot, though Hux would concede that bringing them back to the _Finalizer_ alive for questioning had proven fruitful.

How the Chandrilans had gotten wind of any of it was a mystery.

Hux had his suspicions. He watched Ren as the delegates continued to challenge him.

“Yes, a guilty verdict and a swift execution in each case.”

“Is there something you object to in that?”

The Chandrilans exchanged a look. “Only that the executions were so…. Immediate.”

“They were what the judgement called for.”

“We’re not disputing that.”

“Do you think they deserved an _appeal_?”

“Not at all. It just seems that,” they paused here, apparently choosing their words carefully. “They have been very specifically calculated.”

Ren had the audacity to laugh. The sound was disarmingly soft. “They were.”

The Chandrilans made offended guffaws and moved to protest. Ren raised a hand and they fell silent. Hux bit down on the side of his tongue to stay himself. He hadn’t even needed to use the Force. They were frightened of him, that much was obvious. But there was _something else_. Something that motivated them to attempt to work with him rather than against him. Something that Hux would need to uncover.

“It has happened and it cannot be reversed. Unless any of you have the secret to turning back the clock, it’s not a matter that we should be dwelling on.” The Chandrilans settled, though they were obviously still tense. “We have the matter of a more permanent home for the Senate to discuss. That is the purpose of your visit and of these negotiations. I would like to avoid wasting time.”

Ren’s gaze tracked across the table to Hux. He nodded in approval.

They spoke through the next three shifts.

Mitaka played his part well, both mediator at times and diligent servant. He ordered light meals to be brought to the war room, refreshment. When, finally, Hux could no longer keep his eyes from drooping and pain lanced through his temples with every flash of the holo, Mitaka proved himself a competent man yet again.

“Supreme Leader, might I suggest retiring from this session? We’ve made such progress here.” His nostrils flared and he breathed in slowly, forever wary of Ren’s temper even with the confidence he’d gained over the year of Ren’s rule.

Ren, surprisingly, acquiesced. “I agreed, Lieutenant.” He rose from his seat and gestured across the table. “Please, show our guests to their quarters. I trust you’ll find them comfortable.”

Hux stood and squared his shoulders. “Supreme Leader, if I may?” Ren nodded, a perfectly pleasant curl to the corners of his mouth. “I would like to kindly remind our _honored_ guests that the _Finalizer_ is an active military craft. Should they like to move about beyond their quarters and the common room provided for them, they must comm for an escort.”

“Of course, General.” The lead delegate pursed their lips but didn’t argue. They turned back to Ren, a wary eye on Hux. “We _will_ continue this discussion.”

“Absolutely,” Ren said firmly. “After we’ve all had a chance to rest and review what progress we’ve already made. If you’ll excuse us, Lieutenant Mitaka will show you the way. General Hux and I have duties to attend to before we might retire as well.”

Ren resumed his seat once the Chandrilans had cleared the room. He scrutinized the last diagram they’d punched in, a topographic map turning slowly around in the space above the tabletop. It was a province the Order--Ren--wanted to seize. It was perfectly evident that the area had some significance to him, though whether it was personal or political was difficult to parse solely from the discussion that had swirled around it. The Chandrilans had been very professional in their vagueness as to what their objections were. Hux had to wonder if perhaps they would have been more forthcoming had he not been present. He rubbed his temples. He was becoming paranoid.

“Thank you.” The soft, rumbly statement startled Hux out of his thoughts.

“What for? We accomplished exactly nothing.”

“For not contradicting me.”

Hux snorted, nearly amused at the sincerity in Ren’s tone. “While I’m loathe to confess it, you’ve far more experience in dealing with the Core Worlds than I do, you know how to finesse them. The things I know come from books, newsfeeds. Not very useful when it comes to interpersonal business. I saw no reason to object.” Hux paused. Ren swiped the holotable clear. He very purposefully locked the system down, set it with his own credentials rather than the general working codes. He stood and crossed the room, opened the shutters on the viewport. Chandrila’s principal moon glittered below, the lavender hue soft and calm against the backdrop of realspace beyond. Chandra was barren, useless in the grand scheme of things. The smaller moon, not visible from this side of the ship, was useless for the danger of it. Chandrakant’s toxic atmosphere prevented any kind of settlements from being formed as much as Chandra’s unforgiving terrain did. “For the moment, at the very least.”

Ren huffed in amusement and folded his arms. He was distracted.

“That Pantoran--”

“The secretary. Her name is Sharima.”

“I don’t think I’d turn my back around her. She’s much more than they’re letting on.”

“I agree. She’s not just a secretary, she’s their bodyguard. And very good at her job if intelligence is to be believed.”

Hux bristled. Was this intelligence that was being kept from him? Or was it Ren’s attempt at faking propriety when he’d rifled through minds to find what he wanted? “I thought the native species was Human.”

Ren shrugged. “There was a large group of Pantorans who settled on Chandrila during the Clone Wars--before the Empire. There was a blockade in place for some reason or another, they were struggling. The Core took in groups from quite a few Outer Rim territories because of a failure of economy.”

Hux approached the viewport, settling beside Ren. “We should both get rested. I’ve a feeling they’re going to come back with new objections tomorrow.”

Ren sighed and agreed. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” A sly smile crossed his lips. “Unless you’d like company.”

“I have work to do, Supreme Leader.”

 

***

 

The following cycle’s negotiations were exponentially more heated.

Hux was left astounded that no one had been choked or otherwise manhandled. He’d wanted to do it himself--Ren’s restraint was impressive.

He was becoming more like himself, more like he once was. When he’d first appeared, a silent wraith aboard Hux’s ship, he hadn’t been the volatile monster that strangled junior and senior officers alike, who threw people across rooms with a flick of his wrist and destroyed consoles. He’d been calm and calculating. He inspired both loyalty and fear with his fluid movements and firm hand in field. His anger was a tool to be wielded with skill and precision.Observing him in interrogation was outright terrifying, that had not changed and hopefully never would. Hux had finally understood what _the Dark_ was.

Snoke’s treatment of him, his failures, they’d mounted until his fractured pieces were barely holding together.

The time since Snoke’s death and the beginning of his rule over the First Order, over the galaxy, had done him well. Hux was further and further pushed toward daring to say that Ren was, perhaps, even _good_ at… whatever it was that the _Supreme Leader’s_ prescribed task was.

Lead. Rule. Guide. Control.

Hux had become a scratched holodisc: It made Kylo Ren a liability, dangerous.

Three more cycles of meetings. Three more cycles of time spent away from the bridge where he was most needed. Three more cycles of watching Ren slide deeper into bed with the Chandrilans. It made Hux want to scream. Why Ren was not simply demanding their cooperation and issuing an ultimatum at that point was beyond Hux. Ren, it seemed, was absorbed in the work of it.

He hadn't even found his way to Hux's bed, retiring to his quarters to meditate and research at the end of each session. He'd return fresh, his hair glossy and styled, his clothes impeccable. He was beginning to effect a much more regal air.

At the beggining of the fourth  _endless_ session, Hux rose before the chrono chimed and prepared himself. He would  _end this_. He would make it clear that the Chandrilans and their allies had no chips left to bet or bargain. He would show them that bowing to the will of the Order was the only way to assure they would not be crushed.

Hux pressed his hand to the access panel beside the door to the war room and stepped over the threshold with a heavy _swoop_ of his coat and the neat clip of his boots against the floor. The lighting was dialed down to a more intimate temperature, a map of Hanna City glittering on the holotable. The old Senate House, the Legislative Commons, and the Defense Fleet headquarters were highlighted.

Ren stood close to another figure, murmuring in an affable tone against the bright backdrop of Chandra beyond the viewport.

Hux cleared his throat and moved toward his usual seat, putting his hand purposefully on the back and dropping his shoulders toward his spine. He addressed the Chandrilan. “ _Ambassador_.”

Ren straightened and turned, clearly feigning ignorance. “General, you’re quite early.”

The Chandrilan’s cream-colored stola made them look ethereal beside Ren. They turned their chin up, daring Hux to challenge them.

“It would appear I’m actually rather late.”

Ren flicked his wrist dismissively, “Not at all. Ambassador Centi was just telling me how lovely the capitol is this time of year.” He gestured toward the map. The secretary--bodyguard--appeared. She moved directly toward the ambassador and showed them something on a datapad. The Centi raised a brow, pursed their lips. After a tense moment they nodded. The little pink-haired woman disappeared, the door hissing closed behind her. Centi straightened, smoothed their hair. “Gentlemen, we’re ready whenever you are.”

Hux was on alert, on guard.

Everything was going too smoothly, agreements were made at lightning-speed compared to the slow drag of the entire exercise. It wasn’t right.

Ren was far too comfortable.

Refreshments appeared without prompting somewhere around the change of shift between the alpha and beta crews. Hux stood and inclined his head respectfully when the droids had finished pushing the carts toward the far side of the room.

“If you will excuse me, Supreme Leader, there is a matter I must attend to on the bridge.”

Ren’s brow furrowed. “Is there something I should be aware of?”

“I would think not, only an issue with trooper deployment. Nothing so concerning, simply easier to hash out quickly in person.”

“Very well, General.” Ren turned his full attention back toward the Chadrilans, a radiant smile falling on the little Pantoran.

Hux commandeered the first shuttle he came across, clicking the speed setting high and letting the chauffeur droid do the rest. He fished his comm from his pocket and keyed in an alert to Phasma. She was waiting near his station on the bridge when he arrived.

“Captain,” he said quietly. “I have a mission for you to attend to. Something that requires discretion.”

“Sir?”

“Pure intelligence. But I need it filtered through channels that can be scrubbed without suspicion. I trust that you will be able to complete the objective yourself or find those who can, and obtain their silence.” Phasma waited, alert. “I need every bit of information that you can find on an individual called _Ben Solo_.”

“The ship, on _Starkiller._ FN-2187 called the man he was with--”

“Yes. This is his son. You’ll find other relevant information quite quickly, I think.”

“What intelligence do you require? Anything specific?”

“Everything, ideally. Particularly with regards to Chandrila.” Hux could feel the interest radiating from his Captain. “It was his homeworld. He was a member of a particularly prominent house.”

“Sir, may I ask--”

“No, you may not. I need to know if Ben Solo has any valuable ties to the delegates aboard this ship, how he might be useful to them.” Hux glanced over the bridge, everyone absorbed in their duties as they should be. This was _his_ domain. “I have to get back to attend our guests. Hopefully this will be their last cycle aboard.”

“Will you need this information before their departure?”

“No, but soon.”

When Hux returned to the table, he did so with cautious ease. Before the cycle was out…

Business was settled.

Ren smiled and bowed and helped to pull out chairs. The Chandrilans addressed him as _Supreme Leader_ when until then they’d seemed to avoid addressing him directly by any title whatsoever. He bid them good rest with promises to see them off when they departed at the beginning of the next alpha shift.

Ren sat back down in his seat heavily when they were gone. He crossed one arm over his chest and placed his opposite hand over his mouth as if in disbelief, brows raised in amusement. “Everything is truly falling into place.”

Hux kept his feet. He trained his attention on the holotable, trying to memorize as much information as he could handle before Ren inevitably secured the files once more. After this was settled, after Ren had his fanfare, Hux would confront him. Was he not Ren’s closest advisor? Should he not have access to the full rage of the Order’s intelligence and resources?

Perhaps Phasma would find the answer to that before it became a necessity to ask.

Ren turned toward him, eyes sparkling and hungry. “You’ll come to my quarters.”

“Supreme Leader, I--”

“Have to get back to the bridge.” Ren stood, lips curling up. “I’m well aware that we’ve kept you from your duties for far too long.” His tone was vaguely mocking. His cheeks and throat had become an attractive pink. “But you will come. At the end of gamma shift.”

Ren stepped closer. His hands, long and broad and pale, laid against Hux’s chest. His fingers curled against the lapels of his coat. It was a rarity that Ren invited Hux to his own quarters. His pleasure at having settled business with the Chandrilans and their allies must truly have been high. Ren seemed unable to settle, the blush deepening across his cheeks and creeping into the shells of his ears. He couldn’t hide it with his hair so coiffed.

“We’ve ample reason to celebrate. Perhaps even enough to open the toniray.”

 _Alderaanian wine._ It was too bubbly, too sweet. Exceedingly rare. Obnoxious.

Ren pitched himself forward with little ceremony, moving in to lay his lips on Hux with all of his clumsy, _messy_ , enthusiasm. Hux stopped him, a firm hand gripping his face, pressing the flesh of his cheeks into his teeth. The amusement disappeared from Ren’s expression. His shoulders hitched with frustration. He shook his head sharply, wrenching his face from Hux’s grip with a snarl.

Hux put a hand against his chest, holding him back, a handful of his fine linen tunic crumpled in his fist. “None of that,” he spat from behind his teeth.

“You didn’t find my mouth so objectionable four cycles ago.” Ren smirked. “Not when you were feeding me your cock.”

Hux grit his teeth, remembering Ren sprawled across his bed, head tipped over the edge of the mattress, choking while he swallowed Hux down.

“Then you should know my preference.”

“Oh, I do. Above me. In all things.” He leaned forward, surely hurting with Hux’s knuckles pressed so sharply to his sternum. “But you’re not,” his whispered.

 

Hux wasn’t entirely sure how he wrestled Ren to his knees, hands gripping his tunic tight and leaning over him. Ren’s face was lit up with outrage, looking up at Hux like he was going to tear him apart. Ren’s chair was on the floor, toppled carelessly, a wide scratch in the durasteel. 

It would have to be buffed out.

Hux found drawing air difficult, his chest wrapped in tangible threads of panic. “And yet it seems,” he said breathlessly, “that you have found your place.” Lips pressed into a line and quivering, Hux forced his chest to fill and leaned closer, nearly folding himself in half over Ren to speak right into his ear. “You always do,  _ Supreme Leader _ .”

The pressure on his chest released so suddenly, Hux nearly toppled. Ren’s expression softened, his mouth lax and shining. “Yes,” he murmured, his hands moving to Hux’s hips, keeping him steady on his feet. “I do.”

Hux drew himself up, heartbeat pounding too loud in his ears, and entire regiment of troopers doing field exercises across the delicate surface of his dura mater. Hux gripped Ren’s chin, swiping roughly across his lips with a gloved thumb. Ren’s long lashes fluttered and the thin sheen of sweat that had raised on his forehead reflected the light of the holoprojection. He made broken sounds, Hux feeding Ren his fingers one by one until his eyes rolled back and the apple of his throat bobbed sharply.

Ren gasped when Hux retreated and with sure fingers he slid open the smooth teeth of Hux’s zipper, unfastened the hook-and-bar. Ren watched with heavy-lidded interested while Hux stroked himself, his cheeks glowing rosy and his ears burning beet-red.

Ren opened his mouth readily, relaxed his jaw. His throat clicked as he breathed heavily through his nose and Hux gripped his jaw in one hand and blush-hot ear in the other.

Rens hands gripped Hux’s hips and his eyes slid closed.

Hux focused on the forgotten holo, the wet sound of Ren’s mouth a distant soundtrack. Coming back to himself, need like an over-calibrated oscillator just behind his navel, he slid his fingers behind the neat coils that anchored Ren’s braid and pulled.

“Yes, you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kylo's hair is styled like a Scythian warrior.](https://youtu.be/puzgpBoesss?t=4m4s) Braids are A Big Deal in Alderaanian culture and I wanted to play with that idea a bit.
> 
> Please, if you would be so kind, consider leaving a comment. I'd really love to know what you like about this thing. What your favorite plot its are, lines, themes, anything.
> 
>  
> 
> [Or, come shout at me on tumblr. Anon is usually on. @avaahren](http://avaahren.tumblr.com/post/174875699879/sundries-aryagreenleaf)


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